look! is not that the window of the cell where Cornelius was
locked up?"

A man had seized with both hands and was shaking the iron
bars of the window in the room which Cornelius had left only
ten minutes before.

"Halloa, halloa!" the man called out, "he is gone."

"How is that? gone?" asked those of the mob who had not been
able to get into the prison, crowded as it was with the mass
of intruders.

"Gone, gone," repeated the man in a rage, "the bird has
flown."

"What does this man say?" asked his Highness, growing quite
pale.

"Oh, Monseigneur, he says a thing which would be very
fortunate if it should turn out true!"

"Certainly it would be fortunate if it were true," said the
young man; "unfortunately it cannot be true."

"However, look!" said the officer.

And indeed, some more faces, furious and contorted with
rage, showed themselves at the windows, crying, --